


Crybaby.

by Serena_ish



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anorexia, Canon-Typical Violence, Eating Disorders, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Character Death, Pining, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recruited students, Sickfic, Slow Burn, cannon compliance, felix-centric, kind of?, will add more tags as it progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:22:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23312320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serena_ish/pseuds/Serena_ish
Summary: ‘Have you always had such a baby face?’ he asked then, causing Felix to falter.‘What –’And before Felix could finish, and to his absolute horror, Sylvain reached forward andpinchedFelix’s cheeks, feeling soft flesh give under his calloused fingers. Felix yanked backwards, the touch sending sparks through his skin and causing heat to rise in his stomach, which now felt heavier than ever.*As the war progresses, Felix struggles to find things he can control.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 25
Kudos: 181





	1. Lemon Drizzle.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! I've been sitting on this fic for a while now, and figured what better time to get it written properly than quarantine? This is going to be a long ride, and I will try to update it as often as I can. PLEASE read with care. This fic does deal with subjects such as eating disorders and mental health issues. Each chapter will contain possible triggers in the beginning notes. If I have missed any trigger warnings at all PLEASE let me know.

‘Try this one,’ Lysithea said, pushing a small yellow topped slice towards him. 

Felix obliged, picking up his fork and cutting off a corner. He braced himself for sweetness on his tongue but was pleasantly surprised to find his taste-buds jump with a bitter tang instead. He let himself hum with pleasure and cut himself a slightly bigger slice to follow up. 

‘So?’ she asked him, leaning forward, elbows on the table and watching him expectantly. 

‘This one is good,’ he told her, restraining himself from taking another bite before he had finished speaking, ‘it’s my favourite one so far.’ 

Lysithea grinned, looking immensely self-satisfied, ‘I knew I could convert you to cake. I just knew it! What’s the texture like? Did I used too much lemon?’ 

Felix took another bite while pondering the question. It was light on his tongue, spongey and airy. She had possibly used too much lemon for a normal person, but not for him. He told her as much and she grinned wider. 

‘Well I baked it with you in mind!’ she said, cutting herself a slice, ‘cake doesn’t have to be overly sweet, but it wouldn’t do you any harm to develop that sweet-tooth. That way I can share all my cake-baking secrets with you.’ 

‘Don’t get carried away,’ he told her as he finished off his slice. He had eaten it in no more than three forkfuls and felt a twist in his stomach as a lost memory of Lorenz crept up in the back of his mind, telling him he should eat with smaller bites. His dead classmates had been making unwanted appearances in his mind since they had taken the bridge. Felix swallowed it down as he cut another slice. He didn’t listen to Lorenz when he was alive, insufferable as he was. So why start now? 

‘I was thinking I could pry you away from the training grounds long enough to try some of the coffee cake I’m planning to make next,’ Lysithea said, interrupting his thoughts, ‘don’t worry, I’ll use more coffee and less sugar.’ 

Felix nodded, allowing himself a rare moment of eye contact with her, ‘that sounds nice, I’m on board.’ 

Her face lit up and Felix couldn’t quite manage to fight off the small smile that curled at his lips. It was nice to be relaxed, to be _friendly_ with someone for a change. Tea and cake in the garden was a change of pace he was surprised he welcomed, and Lysithea was one of the few people he felt almost comfortable around. 

‘Great! I’ll get to work on it right away!’ 

‘Where do you find the ingredients to do all of this?’ Felix asked, always on the verge of speaking with his mouth full. 

Lysithea grinned again at that, looking playfully cheeky as she shrugged and crossed her arms. ‘I have my secrets.’ 

‘Ashe and Caspar will have you imprisoned if they catch you stealing from the kitchen.’ 

‘Ha! I’d like to see them try!’ she said, airily. And Felix smirked because he like to see that, too. 

‘Anyway, I’ve got a spell I want to practise, and I’m sure I’ve kept you away from the training grounds for far longer than your happy with,’ Lysithea said, pushing her chair away from the table to stand, ‘here, take the rest. I made I for you, after all.’ 

She handed him the rest of the cake, wrapped carefully in a napkin. Felix accepted it and mumbled out a ‘thank you’ that made Lysithea smile and shake her head. 

‘There’s more where that came from,’ she told him, ‘I’ll let you know when I’ve made the coffee cake,’ and with a small wave, she took off towards the library. 

*

‘Felix,’ Sylvain whined from somewhere behind him. Felix didn’t turn around. The best way of dealing with Sylvain was pretending that he wasn’t there. He kept his focus on the training dummy, on his grip on the hilt, on keeping his breathing steady in his lungs. He took another swing. 

‘Felix come on, you’ve been training all day.’ 

He hadn’t. He had spent most of his day cake testing with Lysithea. He wasn’t going to tell Sylvain that, though. His skin itched at the very idea of Sylvain’s delight at discovering Felix’s newfound love for tea and cake. He didn’t want to admit he had wasted the day with idle activities when he could have, _should_ have been training. They were in the middle of a war and he was wasting his precious time with niceties. He took another swing, harder this time, feeling his control over the blade slipping. 

‘They’re serving your favourite in the dining hall,’ Sylvain continued, despite Felix’s silence, ‘I know you can’t resist,’ he said, his tone dangerously similar to the one he used when wooing pretty girls. Felix felt his patience snap. 

‘You are _incessant_ ,’ he growled, turning to face Sylvain at last. He was wearing a triumphant smile, as if his goal had been to annoy Felix into paying attention to him. 

‘Only because I care,’ he said, hands resting on the back of his head, still wearing that shit-eating grin. 

‘Shut up, no you don’t’ Felix snapped, causing Sylvain to mock offense. 

‘Of course I care, Fe,’ he said then, and for a moment, he almost sounded sincere. Felix didn’t let himself be swayed by it. He sheathed his sword and crossed his arms defensively across his chest. 

‘You’ve got to eat if you’re going to train like this. You need to keep your strength up.’ 

Felix caught himself before saying that he had already eaten. The thought of it threatened to turn his cheeks pink. Instead he settled for a weak ‘I’m not hungry.’ 

But his stomach betrayed him. It growled and his face flared red. Sylvain looked delighted at the sound. His face all lit up like that made Felix want to hit him. 

‘ _Fine_ ,’ Felix snapped, before Sylvain could open his mouth. He didn’t want to hear a word out of him right now. ‘Fine. We can go to dinner.’ 

  
The dining hall was nearly empty by the time they got there. Felix was used to training well into the evening and grabbing dinner once the majority of the soldiers had eaten and moved on. He didn’t like the noise. The scraping of forks on china and the soft crunch of strangers chewing. They sat at the far end of an empty table, the food was still hot and Sylvain had managed to grab two mugs of watered-down ale for them. He let himself relax, ignoring the nagging in the back of his mind telling him that he had already relaxed today, and that he should still be on the training grounds making up for lost time. But Sylvain was smiling at him and Felix couldn’t resist being pulled into it, no matter how hard he tried. And despite the cake, he was hungry. Hungry for something hot and savoury and precious during wartime. He cleared off half of his serving before Sylvain had really started on his.

_Smaller bites._

And another memory resurfaced. Purple and red, coating the stone of the bridge, his sword, his hands. The Boar next to him, Ferdinand coming off of his horse in one swift motion of red and landing with a crack. _Smaller bites._

He put his fork down and lifted his ale. 

‘See, didn’t I tell you it was your favourite? I remember these things, you know.’ 

Felix managed a grunt in response, his stomach twisting itself in knots as red still coated his eyelids. He swallowed his mouthful of ale and any memories he had of his dead classmates all in one. 

‘Hey Fe, are you okay?’ 

‘I’m fine. Leave it,’ he wanted to snap but it came out somewhat shaky. If Sylvain noticed, he had the sense not to pull at it. No one had really been okay since the bridge. Since long before then. Felix shook himself before taking another reluctant bite, reminding himself that the food was hot and good and something he should be grateful for. Supplies had been tight recently. The Boar was too hellbent of taking Enbarr and lives were lost fighting for supplies. The food felt heavier in his stomach at the thought of it. His throat tightened. Sylvain was still talking and Felix forced himself to listen, grateful for Sylvain’s ability to be able to talk without response. He talked about his horse, about the gossip he had heard from Dorothea, about the recipe Dedue was teaching him. And then, of course, he brought it up. 

‘So you know that new girl who works at the tavern in town?’ 

Felix stabbed at a piece of meat on his plate that he had no intention of eating and didn’t answer. 

‘I asked her out last week, at first I just wanted a bit of fun, but –’ 

There was always a ‘but’. 

‘I don’t know, I don’t know if this war has got me acting crazy, but I really fell for her. You know the one I’m talking about, right? She _is_ gorgeous. She’s really something.’ 

‘Why are you telling me this?’ Felix asked then, cutting Sylvain off, his voice finally sharp again. 

Sylvain blinked at him, a small flash of hurt dashing across his eyes, ‘because we’re friends. I thought you would want to know.’ 

‘I don’t want to know,’ Felix snapped, knuckles turning write around his fork. 

‘Gees,’ Sylvain huffed, ‘if you were interested in a girl, I would want to know about it.’ 

‘Why?’ Felix put his fork down a little too hard, his temper mingling with the weight in his stomach, making him feel sick. 

‘Because I just told you, we’re friends. I want to know all about you.’ 

_Friends._ Felix forced the word to settle over him, a stark reminder of the reality he occasionally came a little too close to forgetting. Just friends. Only friends. Felix pushed his plate away and folded his arms over himself. 

‘I don’t see why being friends means you have to know everything about me,’ Felix huffed. Sylvain leaned forward on his elbows, grinning softly at him and Felix did everything in his power to look away. 

‘Are you _sure_ there’s no one you like?’ 

Felix grabbed his mug of ale and took a large gulp, trying to hide the way his cheeks burnt at the question, at the fact Sylvain was too close. Too close to him, too close to the truth. 

‘Of course there’s not. I’ve got better things to do than swoon over someone.’ 

‘Is that right?’ Sylvain toyed. Felix felt a wave of panic rise up his chest. There’s no way Sylvain could know. He hadn’t picked up on it once over the last decade, why would he have figured it out now? 

‘What are you talking about?’ he tried to snap but his mouth felt as if it were filled with sand and the words came out in a rasp. 

‘I hear that you’ve been getting cosy with our little Golden Deer, Lysithea.’ 

Felix felt as if the floor had been pulled from under him. He blinked at Sylvain’s stupid smile. So stupid. So blessedly stupid. He wanted to laugh and hit him all at the same time as he felt his panic melt into indignation. 

‘Why on earth would you think that, you fool?’ 

‘Sharing tea and cake with her? You don’t even like sweets, Fe. Come on, you can tell me.’ 

And once again Felix felt his cheeks burn up. Felt the weight that had settled in his stomach. Sylvain knew about the cake. Knew that Felix had been wasting time indulging while people were dying. People they knew were dying, at their hands, and he was sipping tea and eating cake and not doing everything in his power to end it. Sylvain’s low-lidded grin made him want to sink into himself. He stared down at his empty plate and tightened his arms across himself. 

‘I don’t like her. Not like that. I was just… helping her with something.’ It wasn’t entirely a lie, but it was still a weak excuse. 

Sylvain laughed again, taking a casual swig of his ale before leaning in even closer. Felix stiffened and kept his narrowed eyes fixed on his plate. 

‘Sure you were,’ Sylvain said in a smooth hush that caused the hairs on the back of Felix’s neck to quiver involuntarily. ‘You know, you look cute when you’re on the defensive like this.’ 

Felix bristled at that and forced himself to look up and snap again, but Sylvain was so close, and the sight of Felix’s face in full view only made him grin wider. 

‘Have you always had such a baby face?’ he asked then, causing Felix to falter. 

‘What –’ 

And before Felix could finish, and to his absolute horror, Sylvain reached forward and _pinched_ Felix’s cheeks, feeling soft flesh give under his calloused fingers. Felix yanked backwards, the touch sending sparks through his skin and causing heat to rise in his stomach, which now felt heavier than ever. 

‘Don’t touch me,’ he managed to splutter as he stumbled to his feet, clumsy and numb. Sylvain was a red-headed blur before him, now frowning. 

‘Oh come on Felix, I was joking, I –’ 

But Felix didn’t let him finish, his feet carrying him away as fast as they could go without running. 


	2. Baby Face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes minor descriptions of death and violence, and vomiting. None of it is graphic, but please read with care!

Crybaby. 

He’d heard it before from all of his childhood friends. The Boar, Ingrid, Sylvain. He’d heard it from Glenn after losing when they sparred, he could see it written across his Father’s face when he went crying to him afterwards. _He’s just a bit soft,_ his father would tell people in a strained voice as Felix would start to sniffle. _Sensitive._ Felix soon learnt to go and cry to Sylvain instead. 

It never used to matter that much. He was a second son. He wasn’t the heir and the women of the house found it cute. But then Glenn died, and Felix was the heir, and when he cried his father shouted, told him to pull himself together, to be brave like Glenn had been. Eventually he learnt to turn his tears into anger, killing the crybaby he one was. Anger felt easier, anyway. 

He had gone back to his room, slammed the door, locked it and checked the lock again. He had wanted to go to the training grounds, wanted to slice up a dummy until his arms felt numb but he didn’t want to be out somewhere where Sylvain, where anyone could find him. So he stood in the centre of his room and trembled, still feeling Sylvain’s fingers pulling at his cheeks. 

_Baby face._

Felix brought his own hand up to his face and mimicked Sylvain’s touch. His cheeks felt hot under his fingers, soft. His stomached turned. He’d spent years trying to eradicate the softness from himself, to sharpen himself into sharp words and sharp edges. The thought of anything remaining of the crybaby he once was made his mouth dry and his insides hot. He grabbed the hand-mirror he used to make sure his hair was tied back neatly in the morning and stared at himself. His face was scarlet and blotchy, his eyes wider than usual. He was clammy, fringe sticking to his forehead in greasy strands. He pouted, his cheeks puffed out, rounded and childlike. He felt bile creep up his throat. 

Everyone used to tell him that he looked like Glenn. Back when he was a student, when he was at the age Glenn had died at, it seemed people couldn’t resist the urge to tell him how much he had grown up to look like his brother. The spitting image, especially with his hair unbound. But he had outlived Glenn by nearly six years now, and people had stopped telling him he looked like Glenn years ago. His older brother was a child. No one could compare them anymore. 

He used to hate it, seeing his brother every damn time he looked in the mirror. At least his eyes were his own. Amber like their mothers had been, not that Felix could remember her. Glenn had always worn his hair down, falling in tangles past his shoulders. And Felix had used to do that too, because Glenn looked right, Glenn did everything right. Didn’t his father want him to be more like Glenn anyway? But then Glenn died and Felix tied his hair up tight, to distance himself, more than anything. He still couldn’t bring himself to cut it. It had been a small, secret comfort. Knowing he had the power to summon his brother in the mirror whenever he wanted, simply by pulling his hair down, even if he could never bring himself to actually do it. 

Felix couldn’t see Glenn in the mirror now. Glenn has been slim and sharp and smug. Thin lips always turned up in a smirk with his high cheekbones framed by dark hair. Until Duscar, Felix had seen him to be made of steel. Sharp and strong and completely invincible. His reflection in the mirror was none of these things. The version of himself looked too young, too soft. Distant and obscure and resembled neither himself nor his brother but a petulant child who wasn’t taking war seriously enough. A spoilt, overindulged noble. A crybaby. 

He slammed the mirror down on his bedside table with shaking hands. The heat from his insides now prickling at his eyes as he blinked, desperate not to live up to his namesake. He couldn’t, _wouldn’t_ be a child. War had no place for ghosts of the past, whether the ghost was his dead self or his dead brother of his dead classmates. The Boar was proof of this. If his crybaby self was making a reappearance then he would kill it all over again. Sharpen himself and do it right this time. Erase all of his soft edges. Softness didn’t belong on the battlefield. 

But even as he told this to himself, he saw it. Purple, red, blood on his sword. He heard the crack of Ferdinand’s body meeting the floor, limbs spread like a ragdoll as the Boar all but roared. He heard Dorothea’s muffled sobs. 

_We killed them, we killed them._

And he couldn’t hold it in. He emptied the contents of his stomach into the waste-paper basket and was grateful that it wasn’t tears. 

*

Felix rose before the sun to the smell of sick. His throat was dry and his head was thick and the heaviness in his stomach hadn’t subsided. He groaned and nearly pulled the covers back over himself to cocoon him from the world. He didn’t want to face it today. He didn’t want to talk to people, to pretend to listen. He didn’t want to see the Boar or the Professor’s stress-marked face. He didn’t want to see Sylvain. Sylvain, who knew he was a crybaby. Sylvain, who knew he was soft. Felix put his face in his hands to rub the sleep away, snarling at the give of his cheeks under his palms. It’s not like Sylvain cared anyway. He wasn’t a pretty girl. He didn’t really matter. 

He forced himself up and out of bed before he could dwell on it. It was pointless to think about. He dressed quickly without glancing down at himself, scraped his hair back and avoided looking in the mirror. His stomach gargled and tightened at the sudden movements but he ignored it, wrinkling his nose in annoyance at the dull pangs twisting his insides. 

The dormitory hallway was empty and dark. He crept past the Boar’s room on instinct, although he was certain the Boar wasn’t using it. Judging by the dark circle under his eye, the Boar didn’t sleep at all. He only left the chapel at the Professor’s command, and even then it was only to glower in the back of strategy meetings, tutting and growling at any suggestion made that didn’t involve marching directly to Enbarr. 

The amount of empty rooms made Felix more aware of his own footsteps, echoing along the hall as each floorboard creaked under his weight no matter how lightly he tried to tread. He sped up past Lorenz’s room, but he couldn’t help himself glancing in Ferdinand’s, door ajar, no doubt from Dorothea. Dust had gathered on his collected blades that he used to let Felix borrow back in their school days, old class-notes untouched and faded in the weak sun. Felix swallowed hard and kept moving forward. 

The dining hall was empty apart from the cook chopping dried meats for breakfast. Felix purposely avoided eye-contact. He didn’t want her ‘good-mornings’, didn’t want her offers of food. He wanted black coffee and nothing more. His stomach grumbled as he poured the bitter liquid into a chipped teacup and complained further as he poured the too-hot coffee down his throat. The smell of toasted break and pork sizzling was almost intoxicating, and for a moment he considered it. A slice of bread coated in melted butter, a side of bacon, maybe even some cheese. His mouth watered, but his stomach still felt heavy, his cheeks still felt soft. He drained the rest of his coffee and took off towards the training grounds before he broke his resolve. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading, I will try and update as soon as possible. Comments and Kudos are always appreciated!


	3. Tread Lightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains very mild sexual content, and not so mild descriptions of hunger, eating and vomit. Please read with care.

The strategy meetings were getting longer and bleaker with each passing week, and still no one could agree on if they should take Enbarr or the capital first. The Professor, trying to regain some form of normality, stood at the end of table to conduct the meetings in a way that mimicked their old classes, but her blank façade was beginning to crack around the edges. She was stressed, unsure. She did a very good job of pretending that she wasn’t. The supplies Felix’s father had brought with him were starting to run dry. There had been increasing reports of Empire scouts circling the monastery. At a distance, sure, but they were growing in number and edging ever closer. As if that mess with Randolph hadn’t put them off. There had even been sightings of demonic beasts in the Sealed Forest. They would have to deal with that soon too, and they didn’t have the resources to do that if they kept pushing towards Enbarr. This war seemed impossible to win and impossible to end. 

Felix slipped out of the council room as soon as they were dismissed. He wanted to get to the training ground as soon as possible, to try and crush his anxieties with repeated swings of his sword, but Sylvain fell easily into step besides him, so close their shoulders brushed together as they walked. 

‘You reckon when Catherine returns she can bring some of the girls back from Charon territory too? It would be nice to see some new faces around here.’ 

‘What happened to barmaid you were seeing?’ Felix grumbled, too hungry and stressed to put any effort into his annoyance. 

‘Oh, nothing. We’re still dating, but it’s nice to have options, you know?’ 

Felix paused, feet nearly tripping over themselves as he failed to fight off his exasperation. It’s not like he was ignorant to Sylvain’s behaviour, but sometimes his blatant disregard for relationships still caught him off guard. Yet another reason why Felix should distance himself. Even if Sylvain was interested, Felix would be just another disposable fling. Nothing more. 

‘You are unbelievable, you know that?’ He snapped, causing Sylvain to stop and look around with a frown. 

‘Calm down, I wasn’t being serious.’ 

‘Are you ever?' 

‘Sometimes. Honestly I’m starting to feel pretty serious about Sara.’ 

‘Who?’ 

‘The barmaid!’ 

‘Oh, right,’ the hunger twisting in Felix’s gut was swiftly replaced with nausea. He rarely knew the names of the girls Sylvain dated, he often doubts Sylvain does either. Felix shakes himself ever so slightly. This Sara girl, she’ll just be another fling. Gone within a week. Sylvain always got bored of them by then. 

‘Anyway, we should get dinner. With everything going on we need to keep our strength up.’ 

Felix felt his palms turn clammy in his gloves. He picked up his pace slightly and kept his gaze on his shoes. 

‘I’m not hungry,’ he mumbled, not trusting himself to look Sylvain in the eyes. 

‘I didn’t see you at lunch.’ 

‘I ate lunch late.’ 

‘So did I.’ 

Felix suppressed a groan. Sylvain wasn’t usually this observant, so why now? Why pretend to care now? 

‘I _said_ I’m not hungry,’ he repeated, slowing down but still refusing to look directly at Sylvain, ‘I’ve got training to catch up on. Go and get dinner with Sara.’ 

‘Felix –’ 

‘Do I need to repeat myself for a third time? Is your skull really that thick?’ Felix snapped, forcing venom into his voice. Sylvain faulted, face falling into something that looked like hurt. It twisted in Felix’s empty gut. He swallowed it down and kept his face set and sharp. 

‘You do make things difficult sometimes Fe, you know that?’ 

Sylvain’s words caught Felix off-guard. Sylvain never bit back, no matter how much Felix tested him. He would laugh it off, wind Felix up more. But Sylvain’s face shut off this time, his forehead creasing and his lips tightening into a thin line. He shook his head and continued down the corridor, leaving Felix standing dizzy and dumbstruck staring after him. Maybe he was finally pushing too much. Maybe Sylvain was getting bored of him, just like he did with all the girls he dated. Maybe Sylvain was finally starting to realise that he just wasn’t worth the effort after all. 

*

Felix swung his sword until his arms were numb and his face was hot and it took all of his remaining energy to keep his knees from shaking under him. It was dark out, and the moon lit up the training grounds with a dull silvery glow that only he got to see. This was his favourite place to be. He let his knees give out and lied spread out on his back in the dust, confident that no one would walk in on him at this hour. The training grounds were his bubble. In here, no one else existed. The war couldn’t reach him in here, the blood he spilled wasn’t real. He stayed there for some time, flat on his back, letting his breathing slow as he mentally traced over the constellations his brother used to point out to him. Felix had pushed himself today, but there was a nagging in his head, in the quickened pace of his heart that told him it hadn’t been enough. His footwork hadn’t been as neat as he wanted, his swings not as powerful, his stamina not enough. He was still too heavy on his feet, too clumsy and slow in his movements. Still making the same careless mistakes he used to make when sparring with Glenn over a decade ago. He groaned in frustration, his stomach groaned louder. The dining hall had seemed inviting, but he didn’t want to risk seeing Sylvain and that look of hurt. He didn’t want to see anyone. The heavy weight in his stomach still lingered, he didn’t want to fill it and make it worse. He wasn’t sure he deserved to. He reminded himself of his heavy footwork, the softness of his cheeks, the way his nails dug into the flesh around his middle. Too soft, too slow, too weak. The hunger ravaging his stomach fought back harder, demanding something, _anything_. He had just worked himself to exhaustion, after all. Surely eating now was okay, surely it wasn’t overindulgence. He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his damp face as Sylvain’s hurt face swam up from his memory. The hunger withered, suddenly he just felt sick. 

Eventually he coaxed himself up, legs now as numb as his arms. Judging by the height of the moon, everyone would be asleep. Everyone but that thing in the chapel, that is. The monastery felt almost peaceful at night, if Felix ignored the rubble they hadn’t yet managed to clean up, the faded bloodstains that still painted the stone walls. His stomach gave a tug as he walked past the dining hall, but he ignored it. There would be nothing in there to eat at this time anyway. It was almost reassuring to know that there was nothing he could do about the pain bubbling in his empty stomach. Nothing to do but feel it. Rise above it. He walked a little taller at the thought. 

He was brought back down to size as he reached the dormitory corridor, as the floorboard creaked beneath him despite how gentle he tried to step. He held his breath, trying to be as lightweight as possible. It didn’t seem to work. 

He was interrupted by a giggle. Light and feminine. He paused, frozen in place so not to make a sound. There was a light thump, a creak that didn’t come from the floorboards, another giggle, breathless and quick. It all came from behind Sylvain’s door. Felix felt his insides fill up with stones. 

‘Sylvain!’ the girl hushed, a warning and an invitation. 

‘Just say the word,’ Sylvain’s voice bit back, low and smooth. 

The girl, Sara, Felix assumed, giggled louder before she gasped, moaned. 

‘I swear, I love you,’ Sylvain growled, which received a deeper moan in response. 

Felix came slamming back into himself, feet stumbling backwards as if the words had physically hit him. He didn’t want to hear this. He didn’t know why he had listened for this long. There was a paused from inside the room and Felix felt his heart stutter into his throat. He took another step backwards and the floor whined underneath him, causing his face to heat up in both panic and shame. He took off, as quickly and quietly as he could manage, in a near sprint past the Boar’s empty room and to his own, where he fumbled with the handle and tried not to slam it behind him. 

*

The leftover lemon cake was staring at him. Sitting on his desk, wrapped carefully in a napkin. It had only been a few days. It would still be edible. It would still taste good. 

Felix hadn’t slept and now the sun was just starting peeking through the curtains. If he wanted to avoid everyone and make his way to the training grounds then he would have to get up soon. But his head thumped, his limbs were stiff and heavy, and his stomach hurt so much he curled into himself, pressing his palms into his middle in an attempt to suffocate the pain. The giggling still rung in his ears. He had heard it all night, as well as the floorboards creaking under his weight, the shudder of the bedframe, Sylvain’s low rumble of _I love you_. Not even the angry groans of his stomach drowned it out. Felix wondered, if only for a moment, if Sylvain really _did_ love her. He had once overheard him telling Dorothea that he loved them all, every girl. He had also heard Dorothea telling him that he was a liar. There was a lot Felix didn’t understand, but he did know that he would never be on the receiving end of that kind of affection, real or faked. 

He groaned; his stomach groaned louder. The emptiness felt like a knife lodged in his gut. The lemon cake laughed at him from its place on the desk. Felix tried to ignore it, but his stomach cried out in response. It had been over a day since he had last eaten and it _hurt_. 

A bite wouldn’t do him any harm. 

Once the decision was made, it happened as quickly as his sore limbs would allow. He all but tumbled out of bed, staggered over to the desk and grabbed the cake harder than he meant to, feeling it squish in his fingers. He didn’t care. It didn’t matter. He tore off the napkin and took a bite that was far too big for his mouth. 

It felt foreign on his tongue. Heavy and stodgy as it travelled down his dry throat. He took another bite. And another, and then he finished it off. 

He could practically hear Lorenz cringing in disgust from beyond the grave. 

The cake had barely made it down his throat as he felt his stomach tighten, his cheeks burn hotter and hotter. If anything, he felt worse than he did before. He immediately missed the emptiness that was rapidly giving way to the weight now settling inside him, hot and sickly and disgusting. He remembered the creaking of the floorboards, his slow swordplay, his clumsy footwork. He saw purple and red and blood on his blade and the crack of bones and Dorothea’s sobbing. The Boar roaring. Sylvain whispering love into a strange girl’s ear. He threw up thick cake-batter sludge before he could reach the bin. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! thank you for reading, and for all the kudos and comments! I really love hearing your feedback! If anyone wants to ask me any questions or talk to me about anything, you can find me on tumblr under the name serena-ish. I hope you are all enjoying this fic so far!  
> Stay safe everyone <3


	4. Off day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry it took me so long to update, I had a big assignment to finish up for uni and it kind of took over my life for a bit. My updates should become a little more frequent from now on, i'm aiming for an update a week.  
> Trigger warnings in this chapter include negative self-image, eating, and eating disorders. Please let me know if I have missed any trigger warnings.

Felix had yet to best his Professor. 

She stood before him now, training sword pointing at his chin as she waited to strike. Her defences, as always, were flawless. Her footwork nimble, her movements quick and precise. Felix often felt as if she could see into his skull and pick out his thoughts, knowing his next move before he did. 

He saw an opening and lunged. She dodged seamlessly, gliding forward in a single smooth motion. The next thing Felix knew was her blade was pressing against his throat. 

He scowled at the contact. It had barely been fifteen minutes and she’s bested him three times. 

‘You’re not at your best today,’ she remarked, resuming her position. 

‘Clearly,’ Felix snarled, tightening his grip on his sword. His thoughts felt lost in a thick fog, a jumble of exhaustion and hunger and memories he couldn’t seem to rid himself of. _I swear, I love you._

Felix went on the offensive, desperate to make his mind as empty as his stomach. His limbs moved as if he were underwater, slow and lumbering. The Professor dodged him with ease. She all but knocked the sword out of his hand before swinging her practise blade into his middle. Pain radiated through him as his stomach churned at the sudden hit. Any excuse for it to hurt more, to remind him of how hungry he was. He wrapped an arm around his stomach and tried not to let on how much it hurt. It really shouldn’t have hurt that much. He was just too soft. The Professor was watching him with a furrowed brow, her sword hanging limp at her side. Felix willed her to lift it, to come at him again and again until he either won or collapsed, but he knew she was done by the look on her usually blank face. He put himself in position anyway. 

‘That’s enough Felix,’ she told him, returning to the weapon rack, ‘you’re having an off day.’ 

Felix opened his mouth to argue but she turned and shot him a look that told him it would be pointless to do so. She looked almost as tired as he felt. Pale, with stress-lines decorating her brow and purple curls under her eyes. Yet she had still fought perfectly. She could still do what he could not. 

‘What is it?’ she asked, catching him off-guard. 

‘What is what?’ 

‘What’s _wrong_ , Felix. You’re distracted. Something’s bothering you.’ 

‘I’m just having an off day, like you said.’ 

She frowned at him, causing guilt to twist in his stomach at the stress-marks deepening across her forehead. 

‘If you have an off day like that on the battlefield, you’ll die,’ she told him simply. 

‘I know.’ 

‘So if you tell me _why_ you’re not at your best today, maybe we can work to avoid that.’ 

Felix suppressed a groan. She really could see right through him. As she waited for his answer, hands firmly on her hips, her seafoam eyes bored into him, digging under his clothes, his skin. He hated it. His arms wrapped tightly across his middle as he tried to look anywhere but at her. 

‘I’m just… tired, I guess,’ it was weak, he knew it and so did she. There was a brief silence in which she decided whether to push him for the truth of not as Felix wished he could shrink into himself and vanish under her glare. She sighed, rubbed her forehead. 

‘You’re overdoing it,’ she told him, defeated. 

_I’m not doing enough_ , he wanted to say, but that would invite awkward questions he already been so lucky to avoid. He remained silent, gaze fixed to the floor, arms still snaked around his waist. 

‘Come on, you need a break. Let’s go and get something to eat.’ 

Guilt turned to panic, the feeling of thick cake batter still heavy in his throat. 

‘I should keep training,’ he told her in a dismissive rasp. 

‘What would that achieve, with you in this state?’ 

Her words burnt his cheeks. He didn’t want to think of the state he must look. Didn’t want to think of his heavy footwork and his slow movements and his sweaty brow and splotchy baby cheeks. How weak he must seem to her. To everyone. Pitiful. His grip around his waist grew tighter still, and his Professor’s frown deepened. 

‘You’re being too harsh on yourself,’ she said softly, trying to coax him to look at her. Reluctantly, he did. She wore a look of concern that would have made angry if worn by anyone else. But the Professor was one of the few people he trusted to get this close. Not that he really had a choice. She had always been able to pick him apart, no matter how hard of an exterior he tried to front. 

‘Come, we’re done here today. Let’s go and eat, you can start fresh tomorrow.’ 

He still felt hesitant, sword held loosely in his hand. 

‘I could use to company at the very least,’ she remarked casually as she made her way to the doors. Felix sighed, not able to think of an excuse to remain, and followed her out into the monastery. 

*

Dedue was on cooking duty. The smell of Duscar spices wafted through the dining hall and made Felix’s mouth water and his stomach turn. It was some type of spicy meat stew with earthy vegetables. The kind of thing that Felix really loved. He cursed Dedue for being such a good cook as the Professor forced a heaped plate into his hands. The dining hall was busy, filled with worse-for-wear soldiers and Seiros Knights. He couldn’t see any of his old classmates, a relief, if anything. They took their seats at the emptiest table and the Professor dug in immediately, that famous appetite of hers making its appearance. Felix picked up his fork and poked at a piece of meat, trying to keep his hand steady. 

‘Are you ill?’ the Professor asked him between mouthfuls. 

‘No, just not hungry.’ 

The Professor watched him with narrowed eyes and he knew he would have to eat something if he were to avoid further interrogation. His stomach contorted. He was so damn hungry, and everything smelled so good. He speared a vegetable and tired not to think about the cake or the way the Professor was still staring at him as he took a bite. 

‘A meal will do you some good,’ the Professor told him after he has swallowed, ‘give you your strength back.’ 

But Felix could barely hear her over the rushing in his ears, the bursts of flavours on his watering tongue, the growling of his stomach as it begged him for more. He gave in, practically humming with delight at each bite. His Professor seemed pleased as he dug in, and started telling him about the sword she had seen at the market, the new battalion she had hired, the cat that had been frequenting her room. Felix nodded occasionally, barely listening to her, barely coming up for air from his meal. He wasn’t even really tasting it anymore, he was just desperate to stop the pain in his stomach. 

_No willpower._

He paused at the snark coming from the back of his mind just long enough to spot a flash of red hair entering the dining hall. Felix froze, fork halfway to his mouth. 

Sylvain was dressed down in his furs with his hair ruffled in a way that turned Felix’s ears pink. But it wasn’t him that Felix was looking at. It was the girl practically clinging to his arm. She was tall and fair, golden hair worn loose and falling in waves to her hips. She wore a deep blue dress with a sash pulling in at her waist to show off how she curved inwards to form a perfect hourglass. She was laughing at something Sylvain had said, her smile was warm and easy, natural on her features. She was everything Felix wasn’t. His exact opposite. He was suddenly overwhelmed by the weight of himself, his throat once again thick with sludge. He put his fork down as if it had burnt him and then they spotted him and the Professor. Sylvain grinned and started to make his way over to them with the girl still clinging to his arm and Felix wished to floor would open up beneath him and swallow him whole. 

‘I’m glad you’re both here!’ Sylvain said as soon as he was in earshot, ‘I’ve been meaning to introduce you to Sara.’ 

Great. An introduction. This had never happened before. Sylvain had never been serious enough to introduce them to these flings. There had been no point. They wouldn’t last a week. But Sara, Sara still hung off his arm, bright and smiling and special without trying. She giggled, eyelids batting as she looked up at Sylvain and it took everything Felix had not to throw up on the table. He heard the moaning, the floorboards, _I swear, I love you._

‘Oh, yes I believe Sylvain has mentioned you. You work at the tavern in town, right?’ The Professor asked, watching Felix out of the corner of her eye. 

‘Yes I do, I’ve heard so much about you, Professor Byleth!’ 

Even her voice was light and airy. 

‘And you! You must be Felix!’ 

He felt the air leave his body as he looked up into her sunny face, feeling completely dumbstruck. He couldn’t summon the words, and he was scared of opening his mouth in case his dinner came back up, so he sat silent, wide-eyed and nodded. 

‘Oh, Sylvain has told me all about you! I hear you’re the most skilled swordsman in the whole army!’ 

Felix felt his cheeks burn as his gaze flashed over to Sylvain, who rubbed the back of his head sheepishly while avoiding eye-contact. He was reminded of his clumsy footwork, of how easily the Professor had beaten him today, of how the training blade felt too heavy in his hands. The shame was scorching. 

‘I – that’s not – that’s an exaggeration,’ Felix mumbled, the heat of it all increasing as he tripped over his words. He couldn’t not look at her. She was too bright. Too perfect. He was being watched too. The Professor was trying to hide it, but Sylvain was staring at him, brow furrowed. Sara giggled again, and Felix involuntarily reacted by shoving his plate away from him and standing up quickly, knees knocking the table as his stomach churned rapidly. He needed to get out of here. It was too much. Too much to see her and him together and hear the cutlery scraping against the plates and feel everyone’s eyes glued onto him. 

‘I’ve got to go,’ he stuttered. 

‘Oh, but you haven’t finished your dinner yet –’ 

He didn’t wait to hear the end of it. He dashed through the crowded dining hall with both his head and his stomach spinning as he did so. 

*

He lay spread on his back on his bed, staring at the ceiling and blinking rapidly. It had been so easy to convince himself that she wasn’t real, but after seeing her, after putting a face to that voice, that laugh, her presence was now undeniable. 

It’s not like he had never seen Sylvain with a girl. He was with girls all the time, a different one every few days. But this one, this one was different. She had caught Sylvain’s attention and hadn’t let it go. And she was beautiful. Tall and glowing and golden. Everything Felix wasn’t. He blinked harder. At least now there was no room for doubt. He now had no excuse not to force himself to move on and get over it, to finally let go of this stupid crush that had lingered since childhood. He told himself this in hopes it would make him feel better, but it did nothing but dampen his eyes further. 

_Crybaby._

He swore, pushing his palms into his closed eyes and trying to recollect his breathing, trying to ignore the boulder in his stomach. This was stupid. Crying was stupid. There was a war going on and he had bigger problems. They all did. He was being sulky and spoilt and childish. Too sensitive. Too soft. The tears prickled his eyes regardless. He pushed his hands down harder onto his face, cringing at the give of his cheeks. He could still feel Sylvain’s fingertips pinching at his flesh. To Sylvain, Felix was nothing more than a bratty child. A difficult one at that. 

Felix was interrupted by a knock on his door. He stayed silent, not even daring to breathe. 

‘Felix? You in there?’ 

Sylvain. 

Felix roughly wiped his face, sitting up so fast it caused his stomach to curdle, still uncomfortably full. He opened the door a crack, dreading seeing Sara with him, but she was nowhere to be seen. It was just Sylvain, looking tired and concerned and holding a plate from the dining hall. Felix’s insides roiled at the sight of it. 

‘What do you want?’ he rasped, stepping back to let Sylvain in. 

‘You took off without finishing your dinner,’ Sylvain said, pushing the door to behind him and placing the plate of bread and cheese on the desk, ‘I brought this by, I thought you might still be hungry.’ 

Felix stared at the plate, then up at Sylvain, and then back at the plate. Sylvain was watching his wearily, looking as if he wanted to reach over and touch Felix but thought better of it. 

‘I’m not hungry,’ Felix breathed, and this time, he really wasn’t. His stomach felt shrivelled and stuffed and it made me want to squirm just thinking about it. He couldn’t help his arms snake around his middle as if to protect himself from Sylvain’s clever eyes. Sylvain frowned, and Felix was suddenly afraid of bringing that look of hurt back to Sylvain’s face and being the cause of it. ‘But thank you,’ he added, unable to look up from the floor, his grip on himself tightening still, ‘and… and I’m sorry.’ 

He heard Sylvain get closer but he couldn’t look up. 

‘Sorry for what, Fe?’ Sylvain asked softly. 

‘For making things difficult,’ he said, his voice too quiet, too weak. 

Sylvain’s hand settled on his shoulder, almost making Felix jump at the sudden contact. He looked up, into Sylvain’s face that had visibly softened, and felt some of the tightness in his chest uncoil at the sight. 

‘That’s okay, I know how you are,’ Sylvain said, fingers squeezing he gently. Despite himself, Felix melted into the touch. ‘Anyway,’ Sylvain continued, tone lightening, ‘you know how much I like a challenge.’ 

Felix flushed a shade of red that reach his ear-tips and Sylvain broke into a grin before pulling him into a dizzy hug. Felix shook himself, and then tried to shake himself free, muttering a string of ‘get off’s into Sylvain’s shirt. Sylvain squeezed him tighter before releasing him, hand still resting on his shoulder as Felix stumbled out of the embrace, brushing himself off and trying to hide the crimson of his cheeks. 

‘You are okay though, right?’ Sylvain asked then, rare seriousness in his voice. 

‘Of course I am, why wouldn’t I be?’ 

‘No reason, but you know you can talk to me about anything.’ 

Felix paused and almost snorted because no, he really couldn’t. Not about this, not about how his heart was still pumping and his palms were still sweating from Sylvain’s embrace. Not about how he was too sensitive, too soft. Too much. But Sylvain’s eyes were honest and there was an openness to him that he only ever allowed Felix to see. So Felix nodded numbly and said ‘I know’ in a voice that crumbled in his mouth. 

‘Good, okay,’ Sylvain said, nodding as if he needed to believe Felix’s confirmation, as if he couldn’t tell Felix was lying, ‘good, well, I should get back. I left Sara waiting…’ 

Felix felt his chest tighten again as he was reminded of the weight that had settled in his stomach. 

‘Yeah. Of course,’ he cleared his throat, gaze falling back to the floor, arms back around his waist, ‘see you tomorrow, I guess.’ 

And then Sylvain was gone, leaving Felix to empty the plate of break and cheese into the waste-paper basket. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! I love hearing what you think, so please let me know in the comments!  
> Stay safe everyone! <3


	5. The Face Beneath.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Going into battle on an empty stomach is not the one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cannon-typical violence ahead. TW for mild blood and injury descriptions.

The dining hall was chaos. 

Felix had already spent an hour in the training grounds. He had thought, _hoped_ , that getting up this early would earn him some peace and quiet at breakfast. This was not the case. The Professor was standing on one of the tables, barking orders as soldiers scuttled around her, clambering with their weapons and putting on their armour haphazardly. Dedue was sharpening his axe next to Ingrid, who was inhaling a bowl of porridge with one hand and clipping on her armour with the other. Annette was in near hysterics as Ashe clumsily attempted to comfort her. Even the Boar was there, relic in hand and growling. 

Felix decided that whatever was going on, he was going to need more caffeine to deal with it. He spotted Sylvain, bed-headed and yawning, seemingly immune to the world rushing around him as he shoved a slice of toast into his mouth. 

‘What in Goddess’s name is going on?’ Felix asked him, coffee in hand, causing Sylvain to jump. 

‘Huh? Oh, Felix,’ Sylvain rubbed his face with his un-gloved hand, ‘the Death Knight’s only gone and shown up in the Sealed Forest.’ 

‘Then why is Annette crying?’ 

‘Mercedes and Caspar went after him.’ 

‘ _What?_ ’ Felix asked, ‘why the hell would they do that?’ 

‘Goddess knows, I asked the Professor the same thing when she dragged me out of bed this morning to follow them,’ Sylvain yawned, ‘apparently he’s lead a group of Imperial scouts out there too,’ another yawn, Sylvain stretched as much as his plated armour would allow. ‘Not to be dramatic or anything, but I think I might be dying.’ 

Felix snorted at him, draining the rest of his coffee. Sylvain was not a morning person. 

‘Pull yourself together, it’s not even that early. Didn’t you sleep last night?’ 

‘Well,’ Sylvain started sheepishly, perking up a little, ‘I wouldn’t exactly say I was sleeping.’ 

And as if on cue, Sara pushed through a group of soldiers and bounded towards them, golden hair streaming after her. 

‘I just had to see you before you left!’ she exclaimed, draping her arms around Sylvain’s neck and swinging herself gracefully into his lap. She moved as if she were made of nothing but feathers. Felix doubted Sylvain could even feel her land in his lap. ‘Do be careful!’ 

Felix made a grunt of disgust that earnt him a glare from Sylvain in return. He left them to it, he needed another cup of coffee, anyway. 

The second cup did nothing but remind him of how empty he was, of how his stomach craved something of actual substance. He ignored the pining of his insides and tightened the little armour he had on. There was no time to go and put on his full gear, the Professor was beginning to move them out already. 

‘Felix, have you been briefed?’ the Professor asked him as she hopped down from her table-top command. 

‘Just about. Can you tell me _why_ Mercedes and Caspar have taken it upon themselves to go ahead?’ 

The Professor’s face looked tight and tired. She glanced over to the Boar, who was now pacing, before saying; ‘Mercedes seems to have, _relations_ , with the Death Knight. Seems to think she can reason with him. I trust her judgement, but…’ she trailed off, rubbing her forehead. ‘We should move out. We’ll have to deal either the Imperial scouts either way.’ 

Felix decided to unpick Mercedes connection to the Death Knight later. He took another gulp of coffee, vividly aware that the Professor was still watching him, now wearing a look that implied she was digging under his skin. 

‘What is it?’ he snapped, averting his eyes. 

‘You weren’t in your room this morning,’ she said, pausing and pursing her lips, ‘you went to the training grounds that early?’ 

‘What of it?’ 

Another pause. Her eyes narrowed but she shook herself, seemingly reminding herself that now was not the time for one of her assessments. 

‘You’re overdoing it,’ she said simply, ‘don’t overdo it.’ 

She made to leave towards her battalion but she hesitated, looking over her shoulder at him and frowning, ‘and _don’t_ have an off day.’ 

They moved out. No one noticed that Felix was running entirely on caffeine and nothing more. Annette sniffled into her sleeve and the Professor was still barking instructions. Felix drained the last of his coffee and winced at both the growling in his stomach and the way Sara teared up as she kissed Sylvain goodbye, like he was hers and hers alone. 

*

It wasn’t a small scouting group. 

They seemed to be simply appearing from the bushes, from between the trees in an endless stream of nameless soldiers in dark Imperial colours. Felix lost count of how many he had killed and he had lost track of most of his comrades. He cut down a mage, an archer, a swordsman with hair a little like his own. His movements were quicker than they had been when training with the Professor, but he was erratic and clumsy and trembling with adrenaline. With each swing, each kill, his limbs grew heavier and the fog surrounding his head grew thicker. With each movement he grew more frustrated with himself, his growing exhaustion was proof that he wasn’t pushing himself hard enough, that he still had so far left to go until he was good enough, strong enough, sharp enough. 

He just barely dodged the swing of an axe aimed for his sternum. 

Felix’s blade sliced into the axe wielder like butter and they fell, just another faceless Imperial corpse to add to the unease in Felix’s stomach. He couldn’t see the others, although he could hear something roaring. Whether it was the Boar or a demonic beast, he wasn’t sure. He would keep killing until someone told him to stop. Or until someone killed him. 

He emerged from the trees into the stone clearing where they had faced Kronya five years prior. The light pouring though the gaps in the canopy hurt his eyes, cutting through the fog that had been building up around his brain. Felix shook himself. Now was not the time to entertain physical distractions. He heard hooves. 

A lancer on a horse, moving towards him quicker than he could register. The spearhead grazed his chest, cutting through fabric like paper now stained red. He hissed in pain and stumbled back, desperate to steady himself for the next attack. He heard someone yell his name but he didn’t look around to see who. He had to focus. _Focus_. But his head was swimming and his bones felt like lead and the lancer was coming back faster than Felix could steady himself. How Felix managed to take the lancer off of his mount, he wasn’t sure, only that he managed it and that blood splattered his face and the body of the lancer thumped dully in the mud at his feet and groaned. Felix lifted his sword to finish him off but the lancer rolled over to show a flash of red hair and a face that belonged to a teenager and suddenly Felix was back on the bridge, seeing red and purple, and his old classmates were screaming and he could see Sylvain in the redness of the lancers hair Dimitri mimicked his snarled face and– 

And he had frozen for too long. 

The lancer forced himself up and suddenly he was a stranger again. An enemy. Felix dodged an attack, jumping backwards with his ankles ensnared in thick brambles. His head span. There was a whirlpool in his stomach and his limbs felt foreign and unmovable. The world was twisting around him, darkening the edges of his vision and he blinked rapidly to regain his sight, to keep himself rooted on the earth as panic bubbled in his chest. He tried to move, to doge, to run, _anything_ as someone yelled his name again and he saw the blur of a lance narrowly missing his throat. He was going to die here. Die some unremarkable death in an unremarkable battle because he was too weak. Too slow. Too soft. He heard hooves again, getting closer and closer and he gritted his teeth ready to make one last lunge forward, one last stand because he refused to go down easy. 

A rush of air blew past him and he recognised Sylvain’s black stallion. The lancer made a snarled, gargling sound as the Lance of Ruin cut through his stomach, spilling its contents into the undergrowth. 

‘Felix!’ Sylvain called to him, sounding panicked. There was blood on his face, blood on his armour and Felix blinked up at him, hating how he trembled as he forced his feet to stand still on the spinning earth. 

‘What are you doing? Get on!’ Sylvain thrust his hand out to Felix, eyes fixed on the paleness of Felix’s skin, the contrast it made with the blood seeping from the wound on his chest. 

‘I’m fine,’ Felix breathed, numb fingers tightening around the hilt of his sword, ‘I had it covered.’ 

Sylvain looked at him incredulously, hand still out and open for Felix to take and he opened his mouth, like he was about to tell Felix to swallow his damn pride, or call him out for his blatant lie, but he was interrupted by an arrow from a faceless archer. It pierced Sylvain’s backplate, right at the weak point and buried into his flesh, causing Sylvain to slump forward and Felix’s world to come tumbling to a halt. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found this chapter a little challenging to write, so I hope it reads okay. Sorry to leave you on a cliffhanger! I'm hoping to have the next chapter up by next week at the latest.  
> Thank you for all your lovely comments, I love hearing what you all think!  
> Stay safe everyone <3


	6. Flesh Wound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for blood and injury description, although it's pretty mild.

Sylvain had done a good job of remaining at least semi-conscious. He made it all the way to the infirmary draped over Felix’s shoulder and it wasn’t until Manuela yanked the arrow out of his back before the pain and blood loss got to him and his eyes fluttered shut, his hand falling slack in Felix’s clammy ones. They remained that way as Manuela finished off cleaning and closing his wound with her white magic, reassuring Felix that it was fine, that Sylvain would be fine and cleared for duty after a day or two of rest. Felix barely heard her over the rushing that still rang through his ears, the way his heartbeat pounded and clenched each time he caught sight of the bloodstains decorating Sylvain’s bare back, at the wound under Manuela’s hands shrinking into a small sealed pucker of new skin before his very eyes. 

‘I’ll need to check you over as well,’ she told him, pulling her attention from Sylvain to Felix, who was pale and bloodied and trying desperately to hide how badly he was trembling. 

‘Don’t waste your efforts, I’m fine,’ Felix snapped. Or, he tried too. It came out as more of a rasp. 

‘You certainly don’t look fine,’ she said, airy but stern, leaning back in her chair and dragging her eyes over him, catching at the wound on his chest. He wished he could sink into himself. 

‘I am fine. It’s just a flesh wound, nothing more.’ 

She didn’t look convinced, but she, like everyone else, knew that arguing with Felix was nearly always a waste of time. So instead she simply tutted at him as if he were the same troublesome child he had been in her classes all those years ago and began to negotiate. 

‘At least let me clean your wound.’ 

‘I said it’s _fine_. Don’t you have anyone else to bother?’ 

‘So rude!’ Manuela huffed as though she hadn’t been expecting it. She sighed, hands wondering up to her slightly dishevelled hair in order to fix it as she eyed Felix over and admitted defeat. ‘But you are right, I’m probably needed down at the forest, it sounds like the fighting is done.’ 

She stood, Sylvain’s blood speckling her pale dress and staining her hands pink. She forced a small container of green paste into Felix’s hands and pretended she didn’t notice how they shook. 

‘If you wont let me fuss over you, at least clean the wound yourself. Put a healthy amount of this over it when you are done, it’ll speed up the healing. You’ll be no good to him half dead.’ 

Felix hated how softly she was looking at him. As if she knew. As if she could see it all. Felix couldn’t look at her as he held the container he knew he would not use. 

‘Keep an eye on him, will you?’ She asked, too softly again because she knew that he would sit there until Sylvain awoke without being told. She knew but she pretended that she didn’t. Felix nodded dumbly, trying to convince himself that he was only going to stay because he was told to. That he really didn’t care so much that he felt sick, like his heart was going to beat and burst under the weight of it all. 

And then suddenly it was just the two of them. Sylvain didn’t stir. The afternoon sun pouring through the infirmary windows illuminated his red hair and danced off of his closed eyelashes. He was slowly regaining his colour, the freckles on his cheeks that were usually only visible when he paled were slowly starting to melt back into the pigmentation. Felix watched the steady rise and fall of his chest, how the breath from his slightly parted lips gently ruffled a strand of his hair that had fallen into his face. 

Felix brushed it back into place with trembling fingers. 

Sylvain could have died today. If that arrow had just made it’s mark a little lower, a little harder... Felix fought with the bile that crept up his throat at the thought of it. If only Felix had been better, faster, stronger, Sylvain wouldn’t have needed to intervene and risk his neck. Felix’s stomach gave a growl and a pang that mingled with the pain in his chest and he hunched over, feeling a fresh surge of anger at the audacity his stomach had to even dare to complain right now. 

He wished the lancer had gutted him. His stomach wouldn’t hurt if he didn’t have one. 

A small murmur from Sylvain forced Felix up again and he watched as Sylvain shifted slightly, grunting as if something still hurt. Felix felt the guilt constrict in his insides. He needed to be better. Needed to make sure that this never happened again. Sylvain had a habit of taking risks for people that didn’t deserve it. He had never known the value of his own life. Felix wasn’t going to let Sylvain throw it away because he wasn’t strong enough to defend himself, because Sylvain still viewed him as a child that needed babying on the battlefield. 

Sylvain settled back into his deep state of unconscious with a small huff, that pesky stray hair falling back into his face. Felix slowly pushed it aside again, fingers lingering too long on Sylvain’s temple as he fought with the heat behind his eyes. 

*

It was twilight before Sylvain stirred again. Felix hadn’t moved from his seat next to the bed and had started to drift off, curled in on himself in an attempt to subdue the hunger pains that he had no choice but to focus on. The rustling of sheets put him on full alert as he watched Sylvain slowly swim up to consciousness, eyelids flickering open to face the dim infirmary. He groaned. Felix held his breath. 

‘Fe? What happened?’ he slurred, blinking heavily as he looked over at Felix. 

‘You got an arrow lodged in your back, you absolute fool.’ 

Sylvain groaned again, trying to push himself up on his elbows but Felix was there, hands on his shoulders, pushing him back into the bedding. 

‘ _Don’t_ ,’ he hissed, ‘you were shot, you idiot. You need to rest.’ 

Sylvain obeyed, settling back into his pillow and shooting Felix a soft smile. 

‘Didn’t have you worried, did I?’ 

Any patience that Felix might have had snapped and shattered at the question. It must have shown on his face because Sylvain winced slightly as though readying himself. As if he were more concerned about pissing Felix off than the wound in his back. This only made Felix angrier. 

‘You could have died,’ Felix snapped, gripping the seat of his chair to stop his hands from shaking. 

‘Well so could you!’ Sylvain retorted, forcing himself up on his elbows, ‘I nearly watched you get speared! If I hadn’t of –’ 

‘If you hadn’t of got in my way, you wouldn’t be in this bed right now.’ 

‘No, you’re right, I wouldn’t be. I would be with the others, burying your corpse.’ 

‘You’re being dramatic, I could have handled it,’ Felix lied, folding his arms, trying to suppress the tremors that were now travelling though his body. Sylvain scoffed, shook his head. 

‘Right, _sure_ you could have,’ he said in a voice that made Felix see red. ‘Felix, there’s nothing wrong with admitting you need help sometimes.’ 

‘I do not need help!’ Felix hissed, standing up in a motion that made his head spin. ‘I don’t need you risking your life for me! Even if you’re right, even if I couldn’t handle it, even if I did die then you should have _let it happen_.’ 

Sylvain blinked up at him, mouth hanging open as he let Felix’s words settle around them. 

‘Felix –’ 

‘ _No_ ,’ Felix’s voice wobbled as the tremors found its way to his throat, ‘don’t. I don’t want you risking your life for me. I won’t have you die because I was _weak_.’ 

Sylvain was silent, looking at Felix with a mix of pity and frustration and sadness that made Felix want to vomit as he stood there, wet eyed and shaking. 

‘Fe –’ 

But he didn’t want to hear it. It would only make everything harder, make it all hurt worse than it already did. He took a step back as the tears began to clog his eyes, his throat. 

‘Just stay away from me, Sylvain. I mean it.’ _At least until I’m stronger, until I know you won’t throw your life away for me._

He didn’t linger to see if Sylvain looked as hurt as Felix felt. Instead, he ran, barely registering pushing past Sara in the corridor. He couldn’t reach his room quick enough. The tears fell thick and fast and there was nothing he could do to stop them. He slammed the door behind him, the tears burning his eyes, his nose, his stupid _stupid_ baby cheeks as he buried his face into his pillow and sobbed until he couldn’t breathe. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I hope you are all well and that you enjoy this chapter! Thank you all for your comments and kudos, it really does mean the world and I love hearing from you!  
> Stay safe everyone <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! As I said, I will try and update as often as possible! Comments are always appreciated!


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